


Branta Canadensis

by helens78



Category: due South
Genre: Angst, M/M, POV First Person, Post-Canon, Same-Sex Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-23
Updated: 2010-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:30:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turnabout's fair play and what's good for the goose is good for the gander, except that sometimes the gander gets the whole world and the goose gets a resolution that says <em>marriage is between one man and one woman</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Branta Canadensis

**Author's Note:**

> _Branta Canadensis_ is the scientific name for the Canadian goose, which, while being a bit of a nuisance here in the Pacific Northwest of the United States, is also an animal that tends to mate for life. The history of same-sex marriage in Canada is summarized [here on Wikipedia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Same-sex_marriage_in_Canada); the Northwest Territories didn't hit the list until the Supreme Court decision in 2005.

I hate her, I _hate_ her, I fucking _hate_ her for doing this to me. Go on, fine, move on, whatever, Stella, but goddamnit, _marriage_? You're gonna _marry_ that clown?

Fraser reaches out, tries to touch my shoulder, starts to slide his arm over my chest, but I am not in the mood. I roll over on my side, back to Fraser, and he pauses, hand in midair, then settles down on his back.

"I'm sorry, Ray," he says quietly, and _yeah_, Fraser, I'm sorry too.

* * *

The time ticks by, like the countdown to some kind of nuclear explosion. I just hear the words over and over again in my head: _Stella's getting married, Stella's getting married, Stella's getting married._ Like a heartbeat or--no, not a heartbeat, a heartbeat just keeps going, there's no _crash_. It's like the sound I bet an avalanche makes, rumbling, thrumming, until finally it's over and there's--what?

Stella's getting married.

The third time I turn Fraser down, he makes a rough sound in his throat like he's pissed but he don't want to say so, and normally I would be like Diefenbaker sniffing out a box of Twinkies, I would be on him to talk to me, but not now. Not right now.

He just rolls over on his side away from me this time, arm moving slow and steady, and finally he exhales kind of loud and harsh and he reaches to the nightstand for a towel. He's never jerked off in front of me like that, and I don't know if he's punishing me for not being able to settle down and fuck or if he's just taking the most expedient path.

Yeah, Fraser, like holing up with your ex-_partner_ is the most expedient path. Good call there, my man. Good call.

* * *

The Supreme Court makes it plain as day: homos get all the rights of _cohabiting couples_. And they write up a real nice resolution about it, later on--marriage is for boys and girls only, thank you for playing. If you like getting another guy's dick up your ass, you're just another one of those couples who can't commit.

I ought to tear up those newspapers, burn 'em with the next fire, but I don't. I clip the articles and put 'em away in the shoebox with all my other important shit I never want to see again, like my wedding ring and my marriage license.

Stella's getting married. A couple months now and she gets another shot at it--life, family, home. Good for her. Good for _fucking_ her.

* * *

"I'd like to arrange tickets back to Chicago this week," Fraser says over breakfast. I shove my eggs around on my plate; I guess this had to come around sooner or later. "Will you be joining me?"

He doesn't have to say why. I know why he's going; Vecchio wants Fraser to be his best man. It's funny--I'm not pissed at _Vecchio_, don't give a damn that it's him in particular. It's kinda ironic, maybe, that I pretend to be him and now he steps in where my life used to be, but turnabout's fair play and what's good for the goose is good for the gander and--

I shove my plate back. Gander gets the whole goddamned world this time; the goose don't get shit.

"Nah," I say. "You go ahead. Have a blast. That sort of thing."

Fraser nods and stands up, making to clear the table. I rock back in my chair and realize what it'll be like for him at the wedding--single guy, alone, still young enough to have kids, fit enough to run after 'em.

"Frannie'll be _thrilled_ to see you again," I snap, and it's meaner than I want it to be, but it's _true_. It's not too late for him. Frannie's the least of it.

His hands still for a minute while he's clearing my plate. "I'm sure she will," he says evenly. He takes the plates to the sink, and Diefenbaker shoots me a look.

"What do you know?" I mumble at him. "It's not too late for you to make some puppies, either."

I hear a clatter from the sink, and I have to get out of here; I stop just long enough to grab boots and my coat before stomping off into the snow. Fraser doesn't follow. I'm almost glad. I'm surprised, and almost kinda glad. Grateful. I could use the time alone.

* * *

I think about going into town and making a phone call while Fraser's gone; hell, I even think about writing to him. He won't be gone more than a few days, and he kissed me so good when he was leaving, kissed me like he thought his tongue could make me believe how bad he wants to come home...

I told him to save a dance for Frannie, and he got all stiff, and not like he _was_ getting. He just nodded and said he would, and to try not to let Diefenbaker eat all the Twinkies over the weekend.

And now I want to call, I want to hear his voice, I want to tell him... I want to tell him I'm _sorry_, God, I'm sorry we can't--I'm sorry it can't be _us_, we can't... it's a fucking joke, a fucking cosmic laugh, because I got a lover who wants kids and a family and a home and _me_ and--

I never make it into town, and Dief eats a whole box of Twinkies and farts up a storm for the whole time Fraser's gone, and I deserve it. I really do.

* * *

I'm sacked out on the couch when I hear the truck pull up--what the hell? I'm not supposed to pick Fraser up until tomorrow morning, so who could that be at this time of night? But before I can even get to my feet, Fraser's inside, and he's walking over to me, shedding his hat and coat and gloves as he comes.

He drops to one knee in front of me, and his cheeks are red and his hands are cold and he looks so good, so _damn_ good, like nothing I ever saw before, and it _hurts_, God, because he is _everything_ and _nothing_ and my eyes start fucking stinging and I try to get up, but he won't let me.

"Ray?" I don't know how many times he's said my name, but when I finally look at him and nod, he pulls a box out of his pocket, and he opens it up. On one knee. And I still don't know what the fuck I'm looking at. I mean, it's not like it sparkles, it's just a band, it's gold, plain, but...

"Fraser--what the hell are you doing?" I ask. "What's that, a door prize? They raffle those off at the wedding or something?"

His gaze is clear and strong, and maybe a little bit triumphant, like he put something together while he was away. "No," he says quietly. "I wondered if you'd consent to being my husband. Lawfully wedded or not."

"Oh, fuck you," I mumble, because my eyes are tearing up and he never--this never--like it's even gonna _mean_ anything, but he's grabbing my hand and slipping the band on and it _fits_, it fits the first time, of course it fits, of course he knew what size to get for me. "Fuck you," I whisper again.

"Fortunately for you, or for both of us, really, I believe I know you well enough to take that as a 'yes'," he says. His lips turn up at the corners, and I can barely see him, he's such a blur. I grab him by the shirt and drag him off the floor and kiss him, kiss him like I haven't let myself kiss him since I found out about Stella and Vecchio, like I always wanted to kiss him, and he kisses me back, hard and strong and solid, _never ever leaving me_.

"It won't be legal," I blurt out. "I mean, it doesn't mean--"

"Yes, it does," he whispers, fierce, both hands twisted into my hair. "Yes, it _does_, Ray. It does."

* * *

The ring's been on my finger for almost six whole years now, and I love it. It's scratched to hell and beat up, I work with my hands, and it's the same for Ben--his has dings too, some of 'em I even remember happening at the time. That _whack!_ of metal against metal or stone or something, and the dismayed little look all over his face when he looked down at his hand, 'cause he wasn't hurt, but gold's kinda soft, it happens.

But we're in front of a judge now, and who should be up here with us but Ray and Stella Vecchio, and Maggie MacKenzie, and the gold band comes off my finger with only a little bit of struggle.

The one that goes back on is platinum, heavy as all _hell_, but I love that too, and from Ben's smile, I think he likes it just as much. _Spouses for life_, the judge says, and I have to say it too, just to see how it feels.

It makes Ben's eyes go all cloudy, and mine, too. He kisses me, warm and full, right there in front of God and everybody. And I think, yeah: maybe we can all live happily ever after.

_-end-_

**Author's Note:**

> Ray's bitterness came roaring out of nowhere at me, and it wasn't until he admitted he wasn't angry with Vecchio that I figured out what the hell was going on in his head. "It's not fair," he said. "I've got a lover who wants marriage and kids and the whole nine yards, and because he's a _him_, I don't get _squat_." To which I politely pointed out that even the Northwest Territories allowed same-sex marrage as of June 2005, and while sure, even Canada was struggling with the issue in 1999, when Ray first moved to Canada with Fraser, things are rather different now.
> 
> He still needed to be kind of walked through it, but fortunately, a patient Mountie and a down-to-earth wolf were very helpful in that regard.
> 
> (Also, it should probably be mentioned that the views of Ray Kowalski on marriage and commitment -- in the sense of people needing to be legally joined in order to have a meaningful commitment -- are not the author's. Although the author is very much in favor of marriage equality, in Canada and other places.)


End file.
